


Slip of the Tongue

by FebruaryGemini



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Slavery (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruaryGemini/pseuds/FebruaryGemini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One word nearly cost you your best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip of the Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ancestral drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002878) by [Unpronounceable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpronounceable/pseuds/Unpronounceable). 



> New bit-before-the-ending as of: 3-3-2016

You were asleep. And with good reason. This was the fourth night in a row that had been interrupted.

It seemed like they were always two steps ahead. If only his reputation would slow down. Then maybe you could actually get something accomplished.

A poke in your side. You wiggle away. It pokes harder and you hear a hissed, “Get up!” Your feet find their way underneath you as your mouth mumbles a reply, and your eyelids bat away the haze of sleep to find your hands already packing the few things that had wandered out of your bag. That’s the nice thing about having been a slave, you didn't have to be awake to be helpful.

You pause. Something’s wrong. He’s watching you. Something in his eyes. Shock. It takes your mind a few seconds to race through the possibilities.

You’re pretty sure you’re the same person as when you went to sleep.

You’re pretty sure your family are the only ones in the general vicinity.

You’re pretty sure you haven’t done anything wrong.

You’re pretty sure…

It was something you said.

You’re pretty sure you said…

“…Mituna…?”

You’re pretty sure he was going to cry.

“No, Kankri, it’s not--”

“Kankri! We need to go!”

Neither of you were about to bring the girls into this, so neither of you would get a chance to explain for the rest of the day.

* * *

The fire was dying. The last of the spilled soup smoking on the coals. Washing dishes really only needed one person, but Mother had sensed the need for the two of you to be alone.

You can feel the pressure building. The silence is wearing thin. You’re not sure if you want him to break it. You’re pretty sure you don’t want him to break it. He takes a breath, sound hovering just out of earshot. You _know_ you don’t want him to break it.

“Is that how you think of me?”

He broke it.

“-It’s not like that!”

“Is that what I am to you? Another-?”

“Please don’t.” You can’t look at him, so you just watch the flames crawl across the wood, feeling it burn in your chest.

“…Mituna?”

The tears in his voice scare you worse than the truth.

You turn to face him, sliding off the log and onto your knees, taking his shaking hand in yours. “Kankri, I love you. You are my leader, my best friend, my brother, and I will serve you until the day I die.”

He slowly slides his hand out from between yours, curling his fingers into a fist. “You are not my servant.”

“I can’t be anything else. They made sure of that.”

“Yes, you can. You can be anything you want.”

“I was hatched to be a slave, taught to be a slave, trained to be a slave, I can’t be anything else!”

A moment of silence. He stood and walked a few steps away as though he wanted to run, then turned back. “I don’t want to own you.”

“It’s a gift. It’s all I can give you. Please.”

“No! You don’t have to be a slave anymore!”

“I want to. I want to be yours. I want to belong to you. I want to serve you. I have never wanted anything more.”

“I don’t want your service!”

You blinked. It sounded like a bad word. As though no one in their right mind would even consider _suggesting_ such a thing. You can’t see. You’re not crying, this isn't worth your tears, but the world refuses to focus. It’s getting harder to breathe. You can’t believe what you heard and you can feel the truth of it. He doesn't want you.

There’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say. You can’t stay, you can’t leave, you can’t whisper, you can’t scream. You are crying. Silent and motionless, but the drops fall thick and fast, leaving small dark spots on your lap.

He sees.

He comes to crouch in front of you, trying his best to stem the rising tide. “Oh, Mituna, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

You've said it so many times before, it’s lost its meaning. Neither of you remember it being there.

Your hand finally responds, reaching up to his worried fingers and pushing them away. He slips around you to catch the next tear. You stop him. This is not resolved. You can’t be fine yet. He tries again. You stop him again. He chokes back a sob. You open your eyes. His breath is fast and shallow. His eyes are locked on yours and perfectly round. His whole body trembles. He’s scared. No, not scared, terrified.

He’s terrified he’s hurt you. He’s terrified you won’t be his friend anymore. He’s terrified you’ll leave. He’s terrified you  _aren't_  his friend anymore. He’s terrified you’re only here because you think you have to be. He’s terrified he controls you.

“Y-you're free, Mituna. You don't serve anyone. Much less me. D-don't serve me.”

“If... if you ask me not to serve you... I won't. Because I love you and I want you to have what you ask for. But if you ask me not to serve you... I don't know what I'll do."

"You'll do what you want. You're _free_!"

"Yes, but I want to serve you. Freedom is only the ability to choose who, or what, you serve. And serving is only putting their needs above your own. You call me 'brother'. You say I'm yours and, _yet_ , you say I'm free. If I am free why won't you let me choose you? If I'm free why can't I do what I want?”

He's quiet for a good thirty seconds. "...I don't know the first thing about having a servant."

Slowly, gently, with every reverence the world has to offer, you lift his hand and press his fingers to your smile. A silent 'thank you', because words aren't enough.

The last tear is gone and he sighs. "You will be mine as long as you want to be."

He helps you to your feet, and the two of you resume your places, as though nothing happened.

Nothing happened, but everything changed.

You are _His_.

The world has never been more right.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I feel like everything I write moves too fast. Also is completely dialogue-centric. I'm such a theater kid. Maybe I'll challenge myself to write something where no one talks. That might happen. There'd be a lot of thinking.
> 
> Anyway...  
> One of the Ancestral Drabbles, titled "Master" and written from the Signless' point of view, caught my attention and I found myself wondering what Psi was thinking. Then there had to be a little talk-it-out thing because they're so cute when they distress each other, and it just turned into this pale-as-a-ghost, glad-the-girls-weren't-here-to-see-it, almost-more-than-family, bonding time.
> 
> I'm sorry, I just really like playing with loyalty.
> 
> And making Psi cry.
> 
> "O LORD, truly I am your servant; I am your servant, and the son of your handmaid: you have loosed my bonds."


End file.
